


Screaming Beans

by bornfromsleep



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ben Hargreeves deserves nice things, Coffee Shop, Coffee is therapy, Klaus and Ben are the babe-est, M/M, Minor mention of former Luther/Allison, Multi, Or a boyfriend, Post-saving the world, bisexual Ben Hargreeves, like a cat, transgender character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornfromsleep/pseuds/bornfromsleep
Summary: While trying to maneuver the aftermath of averting the Apocalypse, the Hargreeves find a coffee shop. Ben, though, finds a cat.





	1. 0.0 Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [testosteroneboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosteroneboy/gifts).



> Posting the Prologue and the First Chapter together. This is just the beginning, the First Chapter will be more interesting, with more ... plot.
> 
> I will add warnings as they begin to apply.

„What?“

The other guy motioned between them, yelling something, but the music drowned him out. If that was what you wanted to call it. The beat was strong and rhythmic, with reverberating bass that made every strand of Ben's hair vibrate. It made him deeply uncomfortable, how it echoed in his chest with every resonating thump, making his heart jump erratically.

He still didn't hear what the guy yelled from the top of the stairs. A hand clamped down around Ben's arm.

„Let's go!“, Klaus shouted straight into his ear, making him wince from the shrillness of it. „This was a terrible idea!“

 _Well, glad he finally thinks so, too._ Clearly, Ben's objections two hours ago hadn't been good enough, because _you need to live a little, Number Six!_ He had experienced 'Life' alongside Klaus and he hadn't liked it much.

Looking back to the top of the stairs, Ben was gonna wave and leave it there, but the guy was making his way through the few people still queuing up to get inside the raving club. Made his way, down to Ben. As they came face to face, Ben could vaguely make out a pleasant enough face. Lots of glitter and face-paint.

„Hey!“, he shouted, „Hey, I think you're - !“

„What?“, Ben almost stepped on Klaus' toes, who just caught himself on the industrial  iron banister.

The glittering guy shuffled just a bit closer – already making Ben shift backwards further. There was a feather boa.

He didn't come much closer, he just raised a … pen.

„I think you're cute! Can I have your number?“

_... Oh._

„I don't have a phone!“, Ben answered, but it didn't look like the guy heard much.

„Can I give you my number?“

„ _What_?“

He motioned to Ben's arm, with the pen. Confused Ben raised his hand. What did he want?

He grabbed his hand and started to scribble something on the palm of Ben's hand, which _he hadn't consented to, help!_ Where was Klaus? Where was his sibling to save him from life invading Ben's personal space? After a second his paralysis faded and he jerked his hand away as if burned.

Confusion mirrored on the guy's face, he raised his hands, shrugging, as if to say 'what now?'. They looked at each other for a moment – a moment too long and Ben felt his hands become moist. Sweaty.

“I'm sorry! You don't – you know!”

“What?”

“I think you're cute! You don't have to text me!”

“I – what?”

“Bennnn, lessgo!”, Klaus yanked him away and oh, Ben went along willingly.

 

Klaus groaned loudly and uncomfortably intense, as soon as the two brothers spilled into the dark and sketchy alleyway that led to the club. Ben felt the cold night air hit him, hit him hard. After the thick, warm and sweaty air inside the club, this was heavenly – not that he'd actually know.

They'd died and lived to tell of it.

He had died. Now he hasn't.

“Phew. That was unpleasant, now, wasn't it ...”, Klaus murmured, rubbing his face.

“You think?”

“Well, you clearly weren't enjoying yourself either, Numero Six-o. But yes, it was a terrible idea, especially for me. Satisfied?”

For lack of something to say Ben shoved his hands into his jacket. He wished he had his hoodie. But no. No hoodies, Klaus had dictated.

They turned out of the alley onto a slightly better lit street, making their way back to the main streets, where they could maybe, perhaps, still catch a tram homewards. It was only eleven anyway.

 


	2. 1 Luther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther finds himself shunned by his siblings. Wandering the streets, he happens upon a small Café and finds some solace and advice there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a huge fan of the Chunkey Monkey. But he's part of the Hargreeves-deal, so he, too, gets his chapter.  
> (Every time you have to say 'Technically it's not incest', that's not great.')  
> I hope I do him justice.
> 
> This time, for real, you get the first of two Original Characters introduced.

Allison was seething.

He saw it in her eyes. Felt it in every covered averted look. Every time she crossed her arms, his heart broke a little.

By far she wasn't the only one giving him the cold shoulder, but at least everyone else acknowledged his existence every once in a while. Even Klaus, whom he had accidentally left to die. That night, in that club. Even Vanya would sometimes watch him.

Except Ben. Scrawny, compassionate Number Six, never one to resort to such base emotions as anger – or violence. Except Ben, who was livid with vivacious, righteous wrath at his brother.

„ _How dare you.“_

„ _How could you leave him behind.“_

„ _How could you betray her so.“_

„ _He cares for you!“_

„ _She trusted you!“_

„ _Klaus would never have done this to you!“_

„ _She would at any time have given anything for you!“_

„ _Even when you beat him, choked him – he still worried for you!“_

„ _Even when you played her, choked her – she only wished for your forgiveness!“_

His accusations still rang in Luther's ears. They still echoed in Allison's glare. When she pretended she hadn't watched him. When she thought he didn't notice. Or maybe she did know he knew? Turned her eyes away that split-second too late, just to make him suffer more.

God knows he deserved it.

„ _You don't deserve his affection!“_

„ _Or **hers**!“_

Tiredly Luther rubbed his eyes.

They had died and lived to tell of it. They were alive and well – Vanya tucked tighter into the fold of their family than she could ever have dreamed.

Musing over how colossally he had fucked this up, wallowing in the self-pity he stood so accused of, he flipped through some older vinyl records. This store, it had boxes outside, on rickety tables. Old records and books, outdated calendars and pictures. Worn paper caught his hand, a familiar, bright lettering at the top.

' _The_ _Umbrella Academy, #09_ '

He pulled it out. It was a fairly old comic book, from a time that felt more ancient than the Jurassic Age. A long time ago. When they were still whole. Still a family. Broken, but not asunder. Before Five vanished. Before _Ben_. Before they left. Before he fucked up. Before he betrayed and disappointed all and sundry.

Sighing heavily, Luther turned it over, looking for a tag, to find the entire box labelled 'For Small Donations'. He supposed he had the change. Might as well start atoning here, if he felt incapable of doing so with his family. With his ... loved ones.

A wooden wind chime rang softly, howled and sang, as he entered the store to find … a café. Immediately the smell of baked goods, of sugar and spices and coffee hit Luther's nose and he faintly registered cinnamon and vanilla. There was something else, as well, something dry. Inside it was all white wood, plush armchairs, seemingly assembled at random, tables wooden and glass and books over books over books. They piled in corners, in front of the shelves, on top of the shelves. Involuntarily, Luther sighed.

„Well, hello there!“

He turned to the counter to find a small, tan woman, her brown hair pulled back into a messy bun, not at all like the well groomed and combed locks of Allison. Putting a letter down on the counter, she leaned against it, her smile as gentle as the breeze Luther was still letting in through the open door.

„Oh. Oh, hi. Hello.“, Luther returned as he awkwardly shuffled through the door.

„Is there anything I can help you with, dear?"

Her eyes were an attentive mix of green and gold, shining on him kindly.

It, uh. It had been some time, since he had been greeted so sincerely, so openly. As if she was truly happy to see a customer, to see, uh, him. 

„I'm beyond help ...“ it burst out of Luther, cold dread washing over him and settling uncomfortably in his chest. At her surprised and honestly worried looking expression, he didn't even feel bad for acknowledging that. He didn't know what he needed, much less, how anyone could help him. He was alone, his family turned from him and he felt so alone. So rejected. Dejected. This must be what Vanya had felt, for all these years. He supposed he deserved that, too.

„Oh, honey.“, she said, lips curling into a sad smile, „I think I have something for you.“ And with that, she turned away and got to work at the various machines. Faintly Luther wondered, if he could afford what concoction she was working on and then frantically looked for a card reading machine, but saw none. He patted down his coat pockets, pants and eventually, luckily, found a few bills. The quiet hum in the store was about to feel awkward, when she slid a big mug towards him.

„Here you go, our all-year-round Pumpkin Latte.“, at his confused look, she laughed and added: „It's on the house, don't fret.“

„Oh.“ and he felt the back of his neck beginning to warm and his ears to tingle. He always felt embarrassment in his ears and it honestly was so stupid.

„That's, uh. Thanks.“

„Next time.“ she added and winked playfully. She then rested her forearms on the counter, continuing to smile at him. After a moment she took back the letter and opened it, gesturing to one of the high chairs at the counter.

„Sit. Take your time. I'll be here for you.“

Dumbfounded, a bit at least, he sat, angling and coordinating his arms and shoulders to fit. She smirked at him, such good humour in her open face. Putting the comic book on the wood, he raised the mug to his nose. It smelled very sweetly, but a little bitter as well, so it was coffee. He recognized more spices, nutmeg and that, uh, weird thing, the little cross-thing. It was small and dark brown and shaped like crosses or tiny stars. Also cinnamon and _so much whipped cream. Sprinkles._

„We get the pumpkin syrup from a local orphanage.“, she supplied readily.

„You do? Uhm, an orphanage? Or you mean, like an orchard?“

She laughed, her eyes narrowing and crinkling up, „An orphanage. For 'difficult to adjust and integrate Youths and Children'“, the air quotation marks very audible, „They have a huge garden area and grow all kinds of things, especially though an insane amount of pumpkins, believe me. But, apparently nothing quite builds character like cooking up gallons and gallons of pumpkin syrup.“

„That's uh, great.“ Luther commended.

„It truly is. In turn we donate part of our sales and of what people give for these things.“, she points to the comic book.

For lack of knowing what to say, he nodded and tried to sip the beverage – trying being the operative word here, as got a whole lot of whipped cream on his nose and upper lip.

„Oh no ...“, he murmured, the telltale tingle of his ears burning.

Giggling quietly, she handed him a fabric tissue, „No worries, it happens. Let me give you a spoon, I forgot anyway.“

„Ah, yes … Thanks. Oh geez.“

For a moment she watched him clean up. Upon returning the kerchief, he felt his face start to break into an echo of her smile. Away from his siblings' judgemental gazes, this was very nice. It was a small break and he hadn't noticed how he'd held his metaphorical breath.

„Aw, look at that smile. That's all I wanted.“

Bashfully, he laughed, averting his gaze from these molten eyes watching him so intently. Seemingly content with herself, she started to rip the plastic window from the envelope, separating the paper and tossing both in separate trash bins.

„You, uhm, recycle diligently.“

„Yes! All for the environment and whatnot.“

„Yeah ...“

Again, a quiet settled over them and Luther resorted to thumbing through the comic book and spooning/sipping his Latte. Looking at his family's adventures cartooned, he felt a lonesome sadness creep up inside of him again. He sighed heavily.

„Oh no. Not again. I can't have you buy this, if it makes you so sad.“, the woman said, pulling it away from him.

„Oh! No! It's, uh. It's not that, it's … ah.“

Expectantly she raised her feathered eyebrows at him. Both their hands rested on the worn comic.

„Would you … like to talk about it?“, she offered softly, her voice coloured with gentle concern.

Luther looked into her warm eyes, the eyes of a stranger, who truly didn't have to care about him or his worries or his screw-up. And yet offered open ears with no request in return. He didn't even know her name.

„I'm … I, uh, I'm Luther.“

„I'm Willow.“

„I ...“, he started, uncertain how to go on, „I … this, uhm. Reminds me of my family. We're, ah, adopted. And we, I mean, I, especially I, were actively shutting out our sister, like, uhm, neglecting her. And I really hurt her and upset my other siblings.“

„Oh.“, Willow pulled back a little, dusting off imaginary lint from the counter.

„Yeah, and ... ah, one of my younger brothers, he got really, he was harmed, because of me and I didn't know, 'cause I wasn't paying attention. I, uh.“, he sighed, "I was a real asshole. I don't know what to do.“

Leaning against the glass casing, containing various sorts of mouth-watering pastries, she crossed her arms, watching him.

„Well. Did you try apologizing? That's usually a good start.“

„I did! They don't want me to. I think, they don't. They're, uhm. Like, ignoring me.“

„Hm.“, the brown-haired woman thought for a long moment, „Have you tried … offering something, like a peace offering? My brother brings me weird jewellery or even weirder coffee, when he thinks he upset me. The important word here being 'thinks'.“

Luther huffed, „Yeah, you don't seem like you're easily upset.“

„Oh, believe me! I am not! But he's managed a few times.“, Willow shrugged, „But I think that's part of being family. You're a bunch of different people stuck with each other involuntarily. You can only try to make it work.“

A peace offering, huh? Luther nodded, contemplating the idea. Allison did like coffee … Always had, especially the sweet and foamy kind.

„A peace offering?“, he repeated quietly.

„Yeah. I mean, I guess it's always worth a try? Like, what's the worst that could happen, right?“

Then suddenly, it came to him.

„Pumpkin Latte!“

„Ah, yes, that would be what that is.“, Willow agreed.

„No! Yes! I mean. Do you have these to go?“

„Ah … Sure?“, she raised her eyebrows again, „Do you ... need to go?“

„Well, yes, kind of! How much is that?“

„What?“

„A pumpkin to go!“

„Well, I'm fresh out of pumpkins … but a Pumpkin Latte To Go would be like … 3,20$?“

„I'll take that!“

Willow blinked her golden eyes at him, „Do you ... have like a cup?“

„A what?“

She reached behind herself and showed him an orange plastic cup. It had a simple line-art on it, a minimalistic skyline of the city.

„I, uh, no? I don't?“

„They're, like, 1,50$ and you get a discount on your beverage when you bring it? I mean, technically I have paper cups, too ...“

Downing his own mug full of pumpkin and spice and coffee and whiipped cream and - milk? - Luther frantically collected his change and his bills and put it on the counter.

„How much, uhm, are those, ah, things, those?“

„The, uh, which ones? The skulls?“

Skull shaped pastries were a weird choice, but probably appropriate.

„Yeah, uh, I'll take like … two?“

„They're 2,80$ each.“

Quickly looking over his money, he nodded.

„Yeah, right, uh, yes. Right. I can do that.“

„Ooookay …“, Willow slowly packed him two in a paper bag, sneakily adding a big cookie, her eyes never straying from Luther's.

„Right, great. And that Latte and the cup and … yeah. What do I owe you?“

„That's 10,30$?“

„Right. Oh!“, he slapped down the comic as well, „And this, yes. Okay, so ...“

Counting his money, he came up to 12,69$ and scooted it over to her.

„Right. Sorry, I don't have anything more, but, right, thank you.“

„Sure?“, Willow blinked at him, owlishly.

„Yes! Thank you so much! Next time!“

„Ah, yes? Bye?“

He gathered his purchases and elbowed open the door, making the wind chime sing again.

„Oh! Cat!“

„Oh! Oh, no! Sorry!“

„No, let him in! It's fine!“

Luther paused in his haste, „Oh, okay, oh, is he yours?“

The cat, black and fuzzy with brown eyes, slipped past him, jumping up on the counter.

„Yeah, well, in a way. It's more of a shared flat situation. Cats.“, Willow rose her shoulders, as if asking 'Cats, what can you do?'

„Right! That's, uh, dope? Cool! Right. Thank you!“

„Thank … you?“

Luther left Willow waving after him slowly, the cat's eyes not leaving his form until he went out of sight.

 

Arriving back at the Academy, his burst of energy suddenly left Luther bereft, in it's wake a sort of deflated insecurity.

What if they ignored him again? What if they threw his offer in his face, deciding that no matter what he brought to their feet, it would be insignificant. What if Allison still despised him?

„ _Like, what's the worst that could happen, right?“_

Right. Right.

What _could_ happen? He could try again, right? At least they'd know he was making an effort? This was starting small. He could always try again, try something different. Perhaps it'd be enough to make them look at him again?

Right.

What _was_ the worst that could happen?

Luther felt the hopefulness return, like the warm tingle of his ears, but, you know, in his chest. There was a lot of space in his chest for sadness, but that meant there was a lot of room for hope, too, right?

He breathed in and out a few times, thinking of Willow and the cat and the Pumpkin Latte. Then he clumsily unlocked the door, dropping his keys twice, but eventually making it inside.

Inside, it was quiet. So, so quiet. Not the nice, warm silence that Willow's had provided, but a cool, aloof silence.

You're not welcome, it spelled out, this isn't home to you. Except, you know, it was his home, the only home he'd ever known. Even on the moon, he'd miss his childhood bedroom and more so, the presence of his siblings. He felt the latter now, in the quiet. They were here, somewhere.

Steeling himself, he cautiously peeked into the reception area, the one with that terrible portrait of Five. That thing had been a haunting in and of itself, in the absence of the real deal … Which was sitting underneath it, very real and very corporal. Resting his feet on the armrest, Five was thumbing through the newspaper. Even after averting the Apocalypse, little Number Five checked the news every day, secretly and quietly anxious, looking for hints they'd screwed up after all, anyway. So far nothing had come up.

Ben was also there, sitting in an armchair, reading. Klaus at his feet, talking animatedly with Allison. Allison …

Vanya and Diego were missing, but _they_ were here. And, right. He had to start somewhere.

Armed with pastries, the memory of Willow's kind smile and ' _What's the worst that could happen?_ ', Luther cleared his throat.

No one reacted, Five flipping to the next page.

Okay. He tried again, a little louder and now Klaus turned to him, face carefully devoid of expression. Allison turned away. For a brief second Luther's attention honed in on her, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, but ... That wasn't where he had to start. So he forced himself to meet Klaus' eyes, which was … awkward, so he settled for a spot above Klaus' shoulder.

„I, uh. Klaus. H-hi.“

His brother slow-blinked at him, as if confused.

„Right. Uhm, I. Hi. Hi. Uhm.“, he stuttered, his eyes flitting to Klaus' for a brief moment.

_Easy breaths. In, out._

„Here. Uh, catch!“ and Luther threw him the bag with the pastries. And the cookie. Klaus caught it, surprisingly. Frowning, he turned it, looking for a label.

„It's uh. You know. A thing.“

„A thing.“, Klaus repeated tonelessly.

Luther suddenly became _very_ aware of Five looking up from his newspaper and Allison switching her weight from one leg to another, arms again crossing. Cold sweat gathered on his brow and he rubbed his left ear.

„Ah, pastries, they're, like, I think ...“ and he trailed off.

In the ensuing awkwardness, Luther suddenly didn't know why he was doing this anymore. Abort mission, this was so stupid. He was so stupid. Why did he do this. Why. He tried to rub his other ear and realized, he was still holding the orange cup. He looked at it, for a moment blanking on why he was holding it. Where did he get it? What the heck was it again?

„ _Here you go, our all-year-round Pumpkin Latte.“_

„ … _but a Pumpkin Latte To Go would be like … 3,20$?“_

„It's a Pumpkin Latte. It's good. The whipped cream's dissolved by now I think.“

„Uhm … What?“, Klaus asked, getting up, still holding the paper bag with the pastries.

„Oh shit. Right. Sorry. That's actually, ah, that's for you.“, Luther corrected himself. He held the cup towards Allison, carefully. He took a step towards her and when she finally, _finally_ , looked at him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, this'd be alright. Klaus was still looking at him in confusion and something that was … different.

It was hope.

It was careful and small and scared, but it was there and just for a second Luther _wondered 'Does he miss me, too?'_

„Ah, that's, so, that's .. they're skull-shaped. That's weird. I'm sorry. I don't actually know. I just. Uhm. Okay.“, he took another deep breath, „I. Klaus. I. Uh. I never, you know, I mean, you do right? I never, uh, meant to … like … get you hurt, right? I'm, ah, really bad at this, the uh, whole leading thing. Maybe Diego's right and, like, he'd make a better Number One, but. But … I. Right. What I mean is … I'm sorry? I'm, uhm … an asshole and. Right. I'm sorry you died. I'm glad you're … you know. Uhm. Not. Not dead.“

Klaus blinked at him. Allison frowned. Five sat up.

Ben didn't put his book down.

„Right. And … I'm. Yeah. I'm ... Allison, I'm sorry. I, uh, I'm … gonna apologize to Vanya, too. I am an asshole. I know it. I … never meant for our family to get hurt.“

In the following silence you could have heard a needle drop. Where were Pogo and Mom? Where were the others? Was there anyone else? Just Pogo, Grace and Vanya and Diego … Nope, there was no one else. Only them.

Dad was still dead.

The rustling of the pastry bag being open caught Luther's attention again. Klaus was peering into the paper bag, carefully pushing around the contents and eventually pulling out a somewhat dented, but still distinctly skull-shaped pastry.

„That's … uhm ...“, he started, looking back and forth between Luther and the pastry. Then he looked at Ben, who calmly stared back at him, not acknowledging anything else, especially not Luther.

Oh.

 _That's_ where the silent treatment came from.

„Is Ben making you not talk to me?“, Luther asked, before he could stop himself. He face-palmed.

Quiet, calm Number Six rose from the armchair, the book dangling forgotten, granting his 'brother' a stare so cold.

„No, _Number One_ ,“ he all but spat, the venom in his voice making Luther reel, „You're perfectly capable of doing so yourself.“

And with that he left.

Five settled back into his newspaper, shaking his head. Allison shook her head as well, the anger she so carefully kept under lid creeping into her features.

„You're impossible!“, she hissed, turning away, away from him, towards the bar. 

That left Klaus and Luther alone and awkward in a terrific situation. Eyes screwed shut, Luther could feel angry tears stinging. _Why_. He'd done so well. He'd _tried_. Why did he fuck everything up. Why did he taint everything good he ever attempted. Why. Why couldn't he just shut up and apologize. _Why_.

„Luther ...“

As he looked up, he saw him approach, Number Four, Klaus, still holding onto the paper bag shakily, carefully, afraid?, he reached for Luther's arm.

„I … Uhm … You ... tried. That's – that's great, right? That's uhm, that's ... progress. That's what they always said in Rehab, you know, it's uhm. Trying is important. It's okay to fail, uhm, like, what's the worst that could happen?“

„ _What's the worst that could happen?“_

„You can always … uhm ... try again, yeah?“

Try again?

„ _You can only try to make it work.“_

Luther gaped at his brother. At skinny, little, scared Number Four, that he hurt and _hurt_ just like their Dad had. He'd been no better than their Dad. Not at all.

„ _But I think that's part of being family. You're a bunch of different people stuck with each other involuntarily.“_

He owed Willow so many coffees and donations. So many.

„Klaus ...“

The addressed smiled, still guarded, still careful, but he smiled, „Yeah, uh. Who would have thought, yeah? Me, remembering a lesson from Rehab? Oh, the irony!“, he laughed. That stuttering, almost spluttering laugh, the nervous one. The one where Klaus was afraid to care, because he was afraid to get hurt again. Afraid to be let down so violently.

And Luther had done that.

„I'm … Klaus, god, I'm really. I'm … Sorry. For real. I need to do better. No, I want to.“

The smile didn't lose it's guardedness, but something crept into it. Something small. Something timid. Something broken so much, it almost looked insignificant. Hope.

Klaus had hope for his brother. He believed him.

Believed he wanted to do better.

Luther wanted to. They deserved it. His siblings deserved all the good things in the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you so much for reading, if you did! Please let me know your thoughts. Even if it's errors, please let me know!
> 
> I really like Willow. If you have trouble imagining someone with naturally yellow-tinted eyes, I recommend having a look at for example the indian actress Rani Mukherji. I suppose I could have called them amber. 
> 
> She won't get with Luther, so be pacified. This is only the beginning. I have concrete plans for about 9 Chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, if you made it this far ... thank you for reading?! Wow. For real, wow. 
> 
> I haven't written and posted anything in probably ... 11 years? 
> 
> This is for my son, the Conneroni, because he got me into TUA and we both firmly believe that these babies deserve all the good things. Also, he got really excited when I mentioned wanting to write something for TUA.  
> *waves


End file.
